


The Man in the Tower

by CrumblingAsh



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Is a Good Bro, Drabble, Gen, No matter what he or anyone else thinks, Poor Tony, Protective Bruce, Something bad happened, Steve Has Issues, Tony Has Issues, Tony Stark is Not a Villain, implied suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 17:06:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4795403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrumblingAsh/pseuds/CrumblingAsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I know that you see Tony as some sort of ... villain, or if not a villain, then a problem. I understand - most of the world does too. But Tony sees himself in the same way, Steve.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man in the Tower

* * *

 

 

 

Bruce hummed. “Steve, have you ever heard the story of the man who was so brilliant, that every invention he made was too much for the Earth to contain?”

Steve titled his head, not looking up. “Tell me?” He requested. He didn’t see Bruce’s answering smile, but as rare as life was in this room, he could feel its warmth against his cheek, like the phantom touch of his mother’s soothing hand.

“There are many stories about treasures that are locked away in towers by people who want to covet them, who are jealous of them. But there’s rarely a story about a treasure that locks _itself_ away. The brilliant man, whose ideas came to the world too soon, would watch in horror as the gifts that he tried to give the people would turn against and destroy them. And he tried to make them better, tried to reshape his gifts so that the people could use them, could become better for them. But each time, no matter how hard he tried, all the would result from his intentions was loss, horror, grief, and anger. And it eventually came down to every time that the brilliant man would look at himself in the mirror, he would see nothing more than a monster whose only worth was in ruining the world, no matter his intentions to try and make it better. And so he built a tower, miles into the air, and locked himself away with inventions that would never again reach the people.”

“... No one’s seen Tony in months,” Steve breathed, understanding. He glanced down at his hands, still wrapped but no longer bruised, flexed his fingers to watch the tendons stretch. “Pepper ... Pepper says he’s okay. Just...”

“Locked away in his tower,” Bruce finished. There was a scuffling against the aged floor of the gym -- the sound of the thin rubber soles of shoes not made for this environment -- and he felt the heat of the other man against his back. Not touching, just ... unapologetically there. “I know that you see Tony as some sort of ... villain, or if not a villain, then a problem. I understand - most of the world does too. But Tony sees himself in the same way, Steve.”

“Locking himself away isn’t going to solve anything.” His fists clenched, tight and eager for a throw. More than one throw. He imagined Tony’s taunting smirk and ill-timed jokes and the ruin that had surrounded them -- he remembered the fight, and ached to hit something. “Running away isn’t a solution.”

Only after he said the words did Steve remember who, exactly, it was he was talking to. It may have been months since he had last seen Bruce, but he still respected the man who had tried to be something more than he was, who lived every day with the consequences of his actions and still tried to do something better than himself. He could still taste, with a sickeningly-strong yearning, that barely-formed friendship that had ended so explosively with an aftermath that had separated them all.

It was on the tip of his tongue to apologize, half-assed and useless words, but Bruce was already chuckling his usual self-deprecating laughter, the sound so familiar that Steve almost fell into the memories of it. Happier times with a bit of hope, that he could have friends in this future. A life outside of fighting.

“That’s true, for most people,” the other man agreed easily. Steve swallowed down his unspoken attempt, fingers stretching out once again. “But Steve, tell me this: If you woke up one day and realized that you were the source of every major problem the world has, what would you, specifically, do?”

It wasn’t even worth seconds of thought; Steve already knew that answer. It didn’t involve locking himself away.

“He wouldn’t-.” He choked on a breath and took another, shaking his head. “He wouldn’t do that.”

Bruce’s hand, heavy and kind, finally found its place on his shoulder, squeezing so lightly Steve barely felt it; the words were just as weighted and just as soft.

“Tony’s one of my best friends. I haven’t seen him a long while, but ... but I think we both know that if he could find no other way, then ... yes. He would.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have one million and ten other projects to be working on and if this becomes anything longer, I apologize.


End file.
